


tell me, we both matter, don't we?

by zauberer_sirin



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Bathroom Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Hurt/Comfort, POV Phil Coulson, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Smut, post-episode 2x07
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-18
Updated: 2014-11-18
Packaged: 2018-02-26 05:02:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2639003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zauberer_sirin/pseuds/zauberer_sirin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Skye takes care of Coulson's wounds after his fight with Derik.</p>
<p>(Shameless 2x07 PWP)</p>
            </blockquote>





	tell me, we both matter, don't we?

It's a good thing that Hank Thompson has such a well-stocked first aid kit. It makes things a lot easier.

The rest of the team is on their way to get Thompson to debriefing, Derik to the authorities, and to document the scene, copy the blueprints. So many things to organize. But Skye took him away from it all. Left Mack in charge of handcuffing Derik and guarding him. Maybe Coulson is not yet capable of going back to his authoritative role, not right now, not in the eyes of his two agents.

"Change into this," Skye hands him a t-shirt she took from the master bedroom. "Don't worry. We'll tell Mr Thompson about it later."

She turns around so that he can change, but then she leads him to the bathroom and sits him on the toilet to examine the wounds Derik inflicted on him. She leaves her gun on the sink, giving Coulson a complicated look, not entirely distrustful but hesitant.

"I'm fine," he tells her. "But if you feel safer using that ICER on me, you should."

She raises an eyebrow, grabbing the first aid kit from the cupboard and sitting on the rim of the bathtub, across from him.

"Okay, I think we can agree that's the kind of thing not-crazy-Coulson would say. Come here."

He leans towards her, offering his bloodied arm.

"You're willing to take the risk?"

"Yes, I am," she replies, so convinced Coulson doesn't know what to say.

They don't say much for a while.

Skye concentrates on his wounds.

He looks around. A nice, spacious bathroom, quaintly decorated. It's a beautiful house. A beautiful life Cameron Klein, or rather Hank Thompson, has made for himself. Coulson wonders how much of it was SHIELD. He wonders if he himself had a say in the details of their new identities. There are many things he will never fully remember. It hits a bit too close home, though, Hank Thompson's perfect life. His family. The things Coulson thought he wanted, and so badly, once upon a time.

Skye finishes cleaning and covering the cuts on his arms.

"Lift your t-shirt."

He does, pushing through his discomfort, self-conscious about his scar. He guesses Skye has seen worse things in himself today, what does it matter. She rubs the disinfectant over his chest. Coulson winces at her and she gives him a sympathetic smile, which deflects the tension a bit. She has seen enough of him. He has no intention of pretending it doesn't hurt in front of her. It stings. 

"This should be enough for now," she says. "I think."

She puts away the alcohol and gauze. She stares at Coulson, still sitting on the toilet. He stares back at her.

"Did you feel anything, when you looked at the blueprint?" he asks, he has to.

Skye hesitates to answer.

"Was it immediate for you?" she asks instead.

Coulson nods. "It was like something inside of me snapped into place."

"I don't know what I feel," Skye admits. "It's all thrown together. I've been so worried about... And it scares me a bit, the whole idea of that city."

"It does?"

He should know better than to think nothing ever scares Skye but he admits it's a bit surprising, and a bit disturbing, hearing it.

"It looks alien, doesn't it?"

He guesses it does. He studies her eyes. "And that bothers you."

She crosses her arms, like hugging herself. For a moment she looks quite small. Coulson has a flash of pushing her into that cell, the sound of her falling on the floor, wonders if the image will ever go away. Skye gave him a warning look when he tried to apologize a feew minutes ago and he shut up, but that doesn't mean he believes she can forget it, either.

"I'm not sure I want to know where I come from," she tells him. "I mean – would you? You almost went crazy because of this, and that guy, that guy started... doing that to people. Because of genetic material that might or might not have been in my blood already. You said it yourself, so don't tell me you haven't thought about it."

He gets that.

Last time Skye got the story of her origins it was almost unbearable. It would have been unbearable for anyone else but Skye. And yes, she's not wrong to be afraid, because something inside Coulson tells him that the real story might be even worse. Which is why he had wanted to go after her father alone, even though he knew Skye would never allow that.

"And today I realized that maybe not everybody might be as chill as you if they found out I'm an alien," she adds. "If it turns out that I'm an alien."

Her face tells him this is something really important. Something has happened.

He reaches his hand to hers, slowly and cautiously, in case Skye doesn't want him to. He squeezes her fingers a moment. Skye wants him to, she reacts to the touch. It feels good, to know he's able to provide some comfort.

"Skye, the people who really know you won't care about what kind of blood is inside your veins."

She looks at him. It's honest and open and Coulson could live on that look alone.

"See? _That's_ the kind of thing real!Coulson would say."

They smile at each other a bit. Shy. Coulson feels better than he has in months and he doesn't know what to do with his newfound freedom.

Some kind of tension falls over them. He's never been exactly comfortable around Skye, not in these kinds of silences, but lately it's been getting worse. It must be all the secrets and his condition, it has complicated things between them.

She is the one to break the silence, giving him a pitying look.

"You look awful," she says. "May is going to kill me for sure. It's obvious I can't be trusted to handle things."

What an extraordinary thing to say, looking at the events of the last couple of days.

"What are you talking about? You were–" She was perfect, that's what he really wants to say. There's no way he could have found the answers he needed without Skye, for so many reasons. Maybe he should tell her. She deserves to know. "You were _perfect_."

She looks away, embarrassed. Still? Coulson wonders. Or maybe it's something else.

"I let my guard down. I let you leave me behind – couldn't protect you."

Because that's it, really, and when the compulsion had overtaken his mind Coulson took that away first, her capacity to protect him. And then her voice. He knew what he was doing, locking her in that cell. He was out of his mind and he was wrong but he knew what he was doing.

And Skye is berating herself for it, rather than resenting Coulson. Because of course Skye would do that. Because of course Skye has surprising priorities. Coulson never thought he'd– 

He reaches his fingers to touch her cheek and –he can't help it– he leans across and presses his mouth to her.

He hasn't kissed someone in a long time – it feels longer than that, which is natural, considering he came back from the dead, and everything feels like tabula rasa in that respect. That it is Skye makes him curious. His own sudden intensity of feelings makes him curious. Skye is basically family, or as close as it gets with him, but he guesses family can take on surprising meanings. It feels nice and dangerous, kissing someone today. It feels nice and dangerous, kissing her.

Skye is surprised but opens her mouth under his for a moment before Coulson regains his sanity.

A different kind of sanity.

She stares at what he's done, sucking an audible breath.

Fuck, Coulson thinks. What the hell is this, he thinks.

He is about to apologize when Skye tilts her head and looks at him, amused.

"Are you still out of your mind?" she asks. "Because _this_ is not something the real!Coulson would do."

Her tone is playful – and that's good, she's not angry or disgusted or disappointed in him, which means Coulson might not need to be angry or disgusted or disappointed in himself – but the implications bother him. It's more than pride.

"It's not? That's kind of sad."

Skye shrugs.

"I guess it is. You should try it some other time, definitely do that again. Maybe when I can be sure you are not crazy. And maybe when we don't have to worry about Ward being loose. And maybe –"

"Got it."

He nods. He will, definitely, do that again. He promises himself, if not Skye. He can't imagine Skye has much use for promises these days. He's not quite sure he can follow through on anything, these days.

But he can be patient. Anyway this is probably not the best setting for a first kiss – a bathroom, a stranger's bathroom, today of all days – and the romantic in him is silently chastizing Coulson. He doesn't know why the romantic in him should have a say in this, since Coulson doesn't know what it all means, if it's even something romantic in itself.

Then Skye kisses him.

It's so surprising it almost makes him pull back against the toilet. He doesn't. Her mouth insists. One hand gently resting on his right knee.

It's not a light, sweet kiss like his had been.

It's a completely different animal, hungry and burning.

He gives her a confused look when she breaks it, pulling at his lower lip with her teeth.

"I just realized," she says, giving his mouth a passing glance, like she wants to kissing him again. "There might not be a time when I know you're not going crazy or when Ward isn't threatening us or when HYDRA is not breathing down our necks."

And she does kiss him again, bringing her body againt Coulson's. At some point he starts kissing back, fighting through the discomfort of his wounds when his hands fly to her hair, fingers threading through it, grabbing her, keeping her close.

He's not sure what has come over him. If this desire is new or has been here for a long time. If he had been fooling himself about playing the disinterested mentor with Skye, or if something has changed lately. He couldn't tell. 

He wants to ask Skye about what she feels. But it's almost an impossible task when she is attacking his mouth like this. What does it matter, he decides. Or what does it matter _right now_.

She maneuvers herself on top of him, hands flat on his shoulders but making sure she is not hurting him. Even gripped by some sort of fever or passion – Coulson doesn't know what is happening, but he decides not to question it – Skye is careful with him.

He sucks a long kiss on her neck.

Skye lets out a very satisfying sound at that. So much that he pulls at her hair a bit to capture it with his lips.

"What are we doing?" he asks her, smirking against her hungry mouth, drunk on the moment.

"This," Skye replies, dropping her hand to his groin and palming his erection.

"Fuck," he mutters, ashamed rather than embarrassed. He shouldn't feel these things, probably. It's against protocol and decency, probably. But Skye sitting on his lap, kissing him as if kissing him was the only thing she had ever wanted to do. His reaction _is_ shameful, but thoroughly unoriginal.

Skye doesn't seem to mind; she keeps working her fingers over the fabric of his pants while she noses a sensitive spot under his jaw. Coulson thrusts desperatedly into her hand. He didn't know he needed this, but now that he does he is still amazed at how much he needs this. Not just this but this _with Skye_. 

She manages to pull his pants and boxers down rather unceremoniously, taking him in her hand. The touch is shocking more than anything. Not that Coulson needs more arousal as it is. Then he relaxes into it, unsurprisingly, every stroke –tentative and expert at the same time– melting the tension of months and months in his muscles.

"Wait a moment," she says and he groans when those fingers abandon him.

She steps out of her jeans and underwear with stunning (if a bit disturbing) speed and starts going through the stuff inside the Thompsons' bathroom closet. Coulson is about to ask what the hell she is doing when Skye produces a condom from the top drawer.

"How did you know?" he asks as she straddles his lap once more, grabbing the toilet tank for balance. Her bare thighs brushing against his bare thighs, he can hardly stand it. "This is the house of a married couple."

"Married couples have condoms," Skye explains. "I used to steal condoms from my foster parents all the time."

"How old were you?" he asks, a bit alarmed.

"Yes, Coulson, I'm totally going to recite my sexual history right now, that's what's going to happen."

He shrugs. Fair enough. If Skye is okay with her past, it doesn't matter. And if she's not, she'll tell him if she wants. He watches her roll the condom over his cock with an out-of-body-experience kind of fascination. This surreal image.

She lowers herself on him, taking charge, narrowing her eyes as she stretches around him.

Coulson keeps still, amazed at it all simply _happening_ to do anything on his own, staring at Skye as she fucks herself on his cock. Not a sight he'd thought he'd be witnessing in this life. He's kind of stuck, unable to react. The warmth and the unfamiliarity lull him into inaction.

Skye looks up at him, eyes full of doubt. "Don't you want t–?"

He grabs her waist and pulls her into a kiss. The romantic in him takes over for a moment. It's a good kiss. Finally he moves with her. Whatever she was asking the answer is yes. It usually is when it comes to him and Skye, he realizes, feeling like a fool.

His hands snake up and down her sides, cupping her ass to get her to press against him at the right angle. Skye curls her fingers around his upper arms.

"Am I hurting you?" she asks.

"Everything's fine," Coulson replies, panting.

She grabs his head in her hands. Warm hands. 

"You're okay, right? You're not losing it anymore."

"I have three knife wounds on my body," he says, smiling at her. "I'm fine."

She looks into his eyes, trying to figure out if he is lying. He has lied to Skye enough to last a lifetime, he hopes she can tell when he's telling her the truth. She kisses that smile off his mouth with her intensity.

"You scared me," she tells him, drawing one fingertip along the line of his mouth. Coulson notices the calloused trigger finger. It's complicated but he finds that arousing and his hips move on their own accord.

She rolls hers more slowly now, teasing a whimper out of him.

"I know. I scared myself," he admits.

And he was so scared. So terrified. Of Skye being there, of Skye not being there. Of Skye getting hurt, or Skye letting him get hurt.

She picks up the rhythm. Coulson tries to, too, despite the technical complications of bathroom sex no one ever warns you against. He's not exactly regretting it – how could he, Skye is kissing him as she rides him, and he can feel her heartbeat racing into his mouth and around his cock – but he wishes the scene was a bit more comfortable.

It doesn't last long. He is in no condition to do this. He needs to sleep, to rest. 

"Skye," he calls, with a sigh.

She seems to understand what it means. She brings her hand between their bodies and starts touching herself. It doesn't take her long to get there. It's okay, they don't have much time anyway, before someone interrupts them. She tilts her head back when she comes, and Coulson kisses her neck, fingers drifting over the fabric of her top, wishing they have more intimacy, less clothes, more time. 

When she comes down she wraps her arms around his neck.

It's so strange.

It's so familiar.

 

 

"The team should be here soon," she says, looking at the state of her in the mirror. "Also I'm very bad at first aid so we should probably get you properly checked up."

Coulson is still sitting on the toilet but has somehow recovered some semblance of decency thanks to having pulled his pants back on. He suddenly feels bad about wearing Mr Thompson's t-shirt in these circusmtances.

He nods at Skye, grabs her wrist and caresses the skin under her thumb for a moment.

"We have to talk about this," he says.

For a moment Skye doesn't look at him.

"Definitely we have to," she says, turning around and brushing her fingers against his cheek, quite tenderly. It surprises Coulson, the gesture. "Just... not now."

He lets go of her hand.

"Because I'm going crazy or Ward is going to hurt someone or HYDRA is going to kill us all?" he offers.

"Something like that."

"Not to mention your father," he adds.

She smiles. Pleased that he gets it.

"That's also part of the equation," she confesses. "A big part."

It's all connected, yes. And they didn't pick the best moment to do this, he knows, and yet, again, he doesn't really regret it. It doesn't bother him that they might have to wait. He's pretty sure his feelings are not going to change any time soon.

As for Skye... Coulson kisses her. It's light and sweet and he has the feeling he won't get to do that for a while. She's hitting pause. He also has the feeling he has something to look forward to in the future, and it's no just finding the alien-looking city.

She finishes getting ready, patting the wrinkles off her clothes. She takes the ICER back.

Coulson just stares at her, trying to swallow his desire.

He swears he will try not to do that too much, in the next days or weeks or however long this takes.

Skye notices him staring, throws him a glance and a smirk through the mirror.

"But you should do that again," she says. "One of these days."

"What?"

"Kiss me like you did today."

Coulson nods.

Definitely.

He promises.


End file.
